


Cherry Lips

by AerisEithne



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Banter, Drunken Flirting, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Male-Female Friendship, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Friendship, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 05:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15789897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AerisEithne/pseuds/AerisEithne
Summary: Relena's had a rough day at the office, but it's nothing a good old fashioned can't cure... especially when it's mixed by her own personal bartender.





	Cherry Lips

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NoirAnge (noirangetrois)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noirangetrois/gifts).



Relena slowly opened the door to her town house, barely able to keep her hands from shaking.

Her bodyguard lingered close behind, scanning the neighborhood and watching her six, as usual. And for all the times she’d found his presence unnerving -- even a bit suffocating, if she were being honest -- tonight his hovering was a welcome comfort.

Her hands were trembling so much, she nearly dropped her keys, and that was just the first point of entry. The ordinary-looking outside door, painted a deceptively cheery shade of red, opened up to a metal monstrosity with its own keypad. Relena punched in her access code to a series of whirs and beeps, and only then did the entrance to her fortress open with a soft, rather anticlimactic _pop_.

Relena all but stumbled into the foyer, clamoring to peel off her blazer-- an impractical wardrobe choice in the August heat, but it was part of her daily workday uniform. She cast it off like it was on fire, draping it over the edge of the bannister before dumping her tote bag on the floor below it, not really caring where her things ended up. It was a departure from her usual _a place for everything/everything in its place_ mentality, but then she was feeling a bit discombobulated, to say the least. Finally, she stepped out of her heels, although she half-tripped in the process. She grasped for the bannister, but found herself righted as a steadying hand cupped her elbow.

She turned her head up to meet evergreen eyes.

“Thank you,” she sighed, ready to sink into oblivion for the next several hours. Hoping he would let her.

He gave her a nod but was otherwise silent as he loosed her elbow, and Relena turned away and padded toward the nearby sitting room. There she plopped unceremoniously onto her couch, although it was hardly the plopping sort of couch; Relena was rarely home long enough to justify owning the type of furniture suitable for lounging. And so she’d furnished the sitting room with a terribly expensive leather chesterfield, much prettier to look at than actually sit on. Relena stretched out on it anyway, grateful that she’d at least purchased a few throw pillows that, while mostly decorative, were comfortable enough.

She leaned back against the pillows and closed her eyes, waiting for the stress of the day to roll off her shoulders. Even with her eyes closed, she knew Trowa had come to stand right next to her. Sometimes she swore she could sense his presence from miles away…

He was probably waiting for her to say something, ever the silent guardian. Much like another former Gundam pilot who used to watch over her… but that had been a long time ago. It was hard to believe how many years had passed between them, already.

He surprised her by speaking first, for a change. “How about something to drink?”

Relena peered up at the steady, patient face that so rarely betrayed any emotion, as he’d been trained. “Sure.”

“Tea?”

She reached up and pinched the bridge of her nose. “After today… I could do with something a little stronger...” She watched as Trowa’s lips curved slightly upward.

“I couldn’t agree more,” he said. Without another word, he turned his heel and strode into the kitchen. Thanks to the rooms’ open layout, Relena could watch him from the couch as he raided the liquor cabinet.

“What’ll it be?” he called over his shoulder. “Vodka… brandy… whiskey?”

“Whiskey,” Relena chimed in. “Definitely whiskey.” She snuggled back into the couch and closed her eyes once more, hoping a good, strong drink would calm the racing of her heart and quiet the pounding in her head. Even in the safety of her home -- doubly safe from the state-of-the-art security system and the former Gundam pilot inside it -- she could still hear the crackling of gunfire in her ears.

“Hmm…” Relena focused her attention instead on the sound of Trowa’s calming baritone, and the clink of bottles as he rummaged through the cabinet. These were much more domestic, happy sounds, that was for sure. “There’s a nice bourbon…” he told her.

“Ooh…” Relena voiced her approval from the couch. “We could do some old fashioneds...”

“Sounds perfect.”

For the first time in hours, she allowed herself to smile. But then she secretly loved it when Trowa would whip up a homemade cocktail for her…

Okay. Not so secretly.

They’d developed a pleasant little routine over the past few years, whenever Trowa was in town to work her detail. He was only a part-time Preventer, though, still balancing security work with his circus performances. Relena had to admit that she found it amusing, how he could juggle two starkly different careers-- and quite literally, at that. And though at times she found his security measures a tad intrusive, she realized it was just the Preventer way. After all, her erstwhile ex-Gundam-pilot-turned-bodyguard Heero Yuy had been no different.

Now, Relena relished moments like these, when the work day and its many obligations were over and done with, and she was finally able to let her hair down. She knew she’d taken Trowa aback at first, when he’d first glimpsed this hidden side of her, but she figured he had to be used to it by now. If anything, he seemed to find her taste for hard liquor quite amusing, or so the little smirk he wore when he was mixing her drinks seemed to suggest.

She’d asked him once where he’d learn to make drinks like that, but he’d only given her that coy little smile of his. Relena had a feeling it was far from the only secret Trowa Barton was keeping...

The object of her meandering thoughts returned to the living room then, two glass tumblers in hand, filled nearly to the rim with amber liquid and garnished with an orange rind and cherry each.

Relena sat up and couldn’t help but grin at Trowa as he bent to hand her a glass.

“You don’t mess around, Barton,” she said gleefully before taking a slow, reverent sip. The flavors danced on her tongue, the sourness of the bitters balanced perfectly by the muddled sugar. And the bourbon itself had a delightfully spicy bite to it, with a subtle hint of caramel and vanilla. The taste conjured up crisp autumn strolls through crunchy, colorful leaves, and winter nights snuggled up by the fireplace.

“This is heavenly,” she pronounced, lifting her glass. Trowa clinked his against hers, and took a seat beside her.

“Cheers,” he said without a trace of humor, his features a mask, as usual. “To… surviving.”

Relena shook her head morosely. “Well, now you had to go and ruin it.”

Trowa frowned. “How so?”

She sighed deeply and set her glass on the coffee table in front of them before sitting back and folding her hands in her lap, studying her nails more closely than she needed to.

“I was trying to forget about… earlier.”

“Ah.” Trowa mimicked her movements, placing his glass next to hers. Relena looked up and met his eyes, which seemed to be searching hers. “Sorry about that,” he added, somewhat wryly. Probably thinking she sounded ridiculous…

“No, it’s okay… You have nothing to be sorry about.” Relena offered him a smile, but she could tell it was weak. She _felt_ weak; that was why. She hardly had the energy to sit up anymore, let alone pick up her glass for another sip, but it was too delicious to ignore. Relena leaned forward and reached for her tumbler, raising it to her own personal barkeep once again.

“You did save my life, after all,” she said with a labored sigh.

Trowa was still frowning, looking at her askance. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“I don’t mean it like that…” Relena knit her brows together as she composed her thoughts. “Of course, I’m grateful to you, and the other Preventers for putting your lives on the line for me.” She sighed again, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s just… I wish you didn’t have to.”

Relena’s mind whirred with the events of earlier that day, when she’d been giving a speech at the dedication of a new monument to commemorate the ten-year anniversary of the end of the Eve Wars, which was coming up that winter. She was at the podium, right in the middle of speaking, when gunshots rang out, sending the crowd that was gathered around into hysterics. Before Relena could even register what was happening, two strong arms were pushing her to the ground, and a tall, muscular form was shielding her from any harm.

_Trowa._

Relena lowered her gaze back to the liquid in her glass. It danced temptingly up at her, flickering in the waning light of the evening, and she raised it to her lips once more. After another long sip, she lowered the glass to see Trowa watching her closely.

“Well, for starters, you don’t have to thank me for doing my job,” Trowa said, scooting a little closer to her on the couch. Relena resisted the urge to back up slightly, remaining where she was. Even as their knees connected, and she felt a jolt of electricity shoot through her veins.

“And, anyway,” he added, seemingly oblivious to her discomfort as he leaned forward, “it could have been much worse.” His gaze was hard and serious. “We got lucky today.”

“We _always_ get lucky,” Relena murmured, bringing the glass back up to her lips. And then she nearly choked on her drink, realizing too late how that sounded. But if Trowa noticed her accidental innuendo, he didn’t let on as he, too, picked up his drink. Relena watched as he took a practiced sip, then replaced his glass on the table.

He turned back toward her with a sheen in his eyes.

“I don’t know about you…” he started, his expression nonchalant. “But... it’s been a while since I’ve gotten ‘lucky.’”

Relena slapped her free hand to her mouth to keep her drink from spraying everywhere as she gasped involuntarily. “Trowa!” she sputtered after she’d managed to swallow.

“Sorry.” But he looked anything but; his eyes were twinkling at her like a pair of Christmas trees, all strung up with lights. There was something wistful about his expression, too. Or maybe Relena was just imagining it.

 _Damn, this drink is strong…_ And yet, before she knew it, she’d polished off the remaining contents of her glass.

And Trowa just sat there smirking at her. “Care for another?”

“Oh, I don’t know… one is dangerous enough.”

Trowa arched a brow. “Since when has that ever stopped you?

Relena narrowed her eyes at him. “I can practically feel you judging me.”

“Not at all.” He reached over to collect their empty glasses before rising to his feet. “I’m gratified to know you like my drinks.”

“All right, then tell you what.” Relena straightened in her seat, tucking her feet up underneath her. “I’ll have one more, _if_ you tell me how you learned to make them.”

“That’s classified,” Trowa said automatically. He gave her a knowing smile before returning to the kitchen island, where he’d left the cocktail ingredients.

“Typical Preventer nonsense,” Relena complained after him. “I doubt the story’s even as exciting as you’re making it out to be…”

She watched as Trowa placed a sugar cube to a mixing glass, then added the bitters and a splash of water before muddling the ingredients together with a long metal spoon for several seconds.

“I may have picked up a thing or two in my travels,” he answered coyly. Then he opened up the bottle of bourbon and added a decent amount to the mixing glass before stirring everything together again. That task done, he plunked a few ice cubes into both of their empty glasses, then grabbed a metal strainer and the mixing glass and poured the liquid through the strainer, dividing it evenly among the tumblers.

“Did you work undercover as a bartender?” Relena guessed, admiring his handiwork from her spot on the couch.

Trowa chuckled as he picked up an orange peel and rubbed it along the rim of one glass before dropping it into the liquid. “Maybe.” By the time he’d finished doing the same to the other glass, topping each drink with a cocktail cherry, Relena was practically salivating. She cleared her throat as demurely as possible, working to maintain her composure.

“I ought to stop hiring you for security, and have you tend bar at my dinner parties from now on,” she teased.

Trowa shrugged and quipped, “Suits me. Whatever pays the bills.” He picked both glasses up off the counter and carried them carefully back to the living room.

And that remark had Relena’s mind scrambling to decipher what he meant by that, _exactly_ , as he sat back down beside her and handed her her glass. Why, that could mean any number of things… And maybe it was the effect of the alcohol, but at the moment, Relena’s mind was entrenched firmly in the gutter.

She arched a single brow at him as she sipped her second -- and equally delicious -- cocktail.

“And what _other_ sorts of things have you done for money? Hmm?”

Trowa didn’t answer her at first, his lips preoccupied with his own drink. But his eyes sparked at her over his glass.

“Things you’d probably rather not know about,” came his cryptic response after he’d finished his sip.

Relena gaped at him. “Oh, now you have to tell me. _Something_.” Trowa shook his head once, but Relena pressed on. “No fair,” she whined, going as far as to place her free hand on his kneecap. “You can’t keep holding out on me like this...”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re _friends_.”

“Are we?” His eyes danced with mirth, but his caustic words annoyed her, nevertheless.

“Yes!” Relena cried, newly infuriated. She yanked her hand away from Trowa’s knee, shooting him her sternest glare. “What do you think _this_ is?” She gestured vaguely at the space between them.

“Cocktail hour.” Trowa raised his glass back to his lips. He paused before taking another sip. “And technically, I’m still on the clock. So this is... wholly unprofessional.”

Relena rolled her eyes. “Like that’s ever stopped _you_ ,” she retorted, enjoying teasing _him_ , for a change.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Trowa said evenly. “I strive to maintain decorum on the job at all times…”

“Oh, so you make drinks for all your clients, then?” Relena said coolly, her glass poised at her lips.

Trowa’s eyes glittered at her. “Only the pretty ones.”

“Ha! I knew it.” Relena set her glass down with renewed vigor. “Admit it; you _have_ done some uncouth things for money.”

“Uncouth?” Trowa echoed, a smile playing on his lips. “I think you mean ‘inappropriate.’”

“Uh-uh. I meant what I said.” Relena wagged a finger at him. “You just don’t want to tell me…”

“Tell you what, now?”

Relena rolled her eyes again. “You’re toying with me, and I don’t appreciate it.”

“To be fair...” Trowa leaned forward in his seat, bringing their knees together once again. “You’re the one insinuating I’m some sort of gigolo.”

Relena’s eyes bulged. “I am _not._ ”

Trowa gestured toward her with his glass. “Sure you are.”

“Okay, well, to be _fair_ ,” Relena mimicked Trowa’s words and his position, as she leaned forward as well. “You _are_ always bragging about your ‘entertaining skills.’ And bartending happens to be one of them?” Her nose crinkled. “Like… why?”

Clearly the alcohol was starting to take effect, as Relena realized she was quickly losing her grasp of her private school vocabulary. She wondered if Trowa noticed how colloquial she sounded all of a sudden.

Trowa startled her by laughing heartily. “You have… quite the imagination.”

“Oh, come on. It’s hardly a big leap to take.”

The look he gave her stopped her in her tracks. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Relena’s heart thumped wildly as he stared straight into her eyes, but she forged ahead nevertheless. “Well, you know… Your nomadic lifestyle, for one thing. You’re always on the road, taking various… ‘jobs.’” She couldn’t resist making quotes with her fingers, despite the look he was giving her. “And I know for a fact that you participate in random hookups rather than relationships--”

“Who told you that?” Trowa cut in, his eyes narrowing.

“Oh, you know.” Relena waved a hand. “I’ve heard things.”

“From who?”

Relena fixed him with a coy smile of her own. “That’s classified.”

Trowa frowned at her for a moment before speaking again, abandoning his drink altogether. “For the record, it’s rather difficult to meet someone when you’re traveling all the time. As I’m sure you can appreciate.” Relena nodded, biting her lower lip. Now she was feeling just a little bit bad for calling him out the way she did. “No, this lifestyle doesn’t really lend itself to settling down, or whatever,” he added, then shrugged carelessly. “But, still. That doesn’t make me a whore.”

Relena gaped at him for what felt like a full minute before bursting out laughing.

“I’m sorry,” she stammered between laughs, her shoulders shaking. She thought she heard Trowa scoff as he reached for his drink.

“I’m glad you find my plight so amusing,” he said. “And here I thought you were propositioning me.”

Relena immediately ceased her laughter. She could feel her face burning, and turned it away from Trowa and his assessing stare. “I… no I wasn’t.”

“Right.” She chanced a look up and, sure enough, Trowa was still gazing steadily at her. His eyes had this unnerving way of piercing her right to the soul. “So you’ve never thought about it.”

Relena was glad she was no longer sipping on her drink, or she was sure it would have ended up all over Trowa’s lap. “I mean…” Of _course_ she’d thought about it… idly, the way one would wonder about kissing any of their attractive male acquaintances. Not that she’d thought about doing anything _besides_ kissing Trowa…

But, then, she had to wonder…

“Have _you_?” She asked the question before she gave herself enough time to fully consider it. And she was also grateful, in the moment, that she had bangs covering her forehead, so that Trowa couldn’t see the blush that was shooting straight up to her hairline…

“No,” Trowa said calmly, and her heart faltered. “I haven’t thought about asking you to pay me for sex.”

Relena’s eyes jerked wide. _“Hey--”_

Trowa’s lips quirked. “But, then, if we did it now… I would be getting paid still, right?”

Relena huffed and spun away from him, folding her arms across her chest. “That’s not funny…” She was tempted to glance back at Trowa to see his reaction when she heard him sigh.

“Fine, you’re right. Forgive me. Like I said… it’s been a while.”

Relena watched him reach for his drink out of the corner of her eye. “Now that I don’t believe for a minute.”

“Really? Because you seem to believe plenty of other things about me…”

His words caught her attention, and Relena couldn’t help but turn back toward him. She realized, much to her annoyance, that she was drawn to him like a magnet. She saw he wore a slightly wounded expression, and everything within her wanted to soothe him and make it go away. He had protected her earlier, as he always had. Maybe now was her chance to do the only thing she felt she could, for former soldiers like him. Perhaps she’d make a lousy shield, but she could certainly offer him comfort.

Relena found herself inching closer to Trowa, until her legs were brushing his. She realized that he could have been manipulating her emotions, that maybe this was his plan all along, but in her inebriated state, she didn’t care. So, he wanted her attentions, like any man in his position probably would.

Well, maybe she wanted him, too.

Surprising herself, Relena continued to move until she was practically in Trowa’s lap. His head jerked up then, his eyes widening as she leaned toward him, and plucked his glass right out of his hand. She managed to reach behind her and set it down on the coffee table, but didn’t bother checking to see whether she’d spilled any of the liquid in the process. But, then, she didn’t really care. Even expensive things could be replaced. Like how hearts could be broken -- thoroughly destroyed, even -- then miraculously brought back to life.

Relena could feel the pieces of her own shattered heart mending as Trowa looked up at her with a wondrous expression. “What… are you doing?”

She laughed and tilted her her face toward his, until their noses were nearly touching. “What’s it look like, Barton?”

His more visible eye widened, but he didn’t answer her. Relena reached up to brush back his bangs so that she could look into _both_ his eyes, because his reaction was so priceless, she just had to see.

But clearly Trowa wasn’t about to let her get the best of him.

“Well…” He answered her question with a smile, as he cupped her face in both of his hands. Relena sucked in a breath. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at her so tenderly… Her heart fluttered, her pulse racing, as she anticipated being closer to Trowa than she’d ever been, and what it meant for them.

His lips twitched as he brought them tantalizingly close to hers, the scent of whiskey and cherries lingering as his breath tickled her skin.

“Looks like I’m fucked.”

Relena barely had time to gasp as Trowa hooked the back of her head, crushing her lips to his.

  
  



End file.
